The Guardians Next Door
by sprite.isn't.lemonade
Summary: After hearing that Harry is being abused, Dumbledore sends Severus and Minerva to investigate. Posing as a married couple, they move in next door and watch over Harry before they can take him away on his 11th birthday. Abusive Dursleys & mentor Snape. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **_Severus and Minerva, posing as Mr. and Mrs. Miller, are sent to Privet Drive to investigate the quality of care Harry is receiving from the Dursleys. Set before Harry's first year, abusive-Dursleys, and Snape-mentors-Harry (sort of). Also featuring a Dumbledore that actually gives a damn about Harry's welfare, but he's still manipulative as ever. Won't be longer than 15 chapters._

**A/N: **_I've always been interested in the dynamics between Severus and Minerva, and while I love Snape-rescues-Harry-from-the-Dursleys stories, they tend to look the same after a while, so I added a small twist. Inspired by their duel in 'Deathly Hallows.' _

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Harry Potter. _

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Mr. and Mrs. Miller of number three, Privet Drive were perfectly abnormal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be standing here in front of their new summer home in this woefully boring and predictable neighbourhood in Little Whinging, because they just didn't hold with such ridiculous conformity.

Mr. Miller was a something of a scientist who usually dealt with concocting strange experiments in what he supposed he ought to consider a 'lab.' His normally greasy black hair was oddly stylish and brown this evening, and he had gained weight since the drink Mrs. Miller had forced him to swallow before they arrived at their new home. Mrs. Miller was a tall, severe-looking woman who wore square spectacles and always arranged her jet black hair into a tight bun. She taught at a special school, one that was not for mentally incapacitated youngsters, but rather _gifted_ children. It had been nearly a decade since she had last visited Privet Drive, and she couldn't say she was thrilled to be back, especially with Mr. Miller accompanying her this time.

The Millers had no children of their own, though this was expected, as the Millers weren't married at all. Mr. Miller felt no feelings of affection for Mrs. Miller— or anyone for that matter— and Mrs. Miller felt their so-called 'relationship' was rather perverse, seeing that she was nearly forty years older than Mr. Miller.

Although they were supposed to be 'married,' there had actually never been a wedding ceremony, just a scheming old man telling Mr. and Mrs. Miller they ought to move to Privet Drive for the summer and keep an eye on their neighbours, particularly the one known as their nephew.

The day before the Millers were set to arrive, the family that lived at house number three had suddenly decided to go to Ireland for the summer, leaving the home free for the Millers to move in. They did not own a car, though this was a good thing, since neither of them knew how to drive. Public transport would have been a hassle, and they did not possess the correct currency to pay a cab fare. Instead, the Millers had their own means of getting there, and arrived on their doorstop with all of their luggage within seconds of departing their previous location.

"This is it, Severus," Mrs. Miller's hushed voice floated through the darkness as they stared up at the cookie-cutter home from the driveway. It looked like every other home on this street, with the exception of the _#3_ brass knocker on their front door. With the help of a few stars twinkling vibrantly above them, she could see an unhappy grimace upon his pale face.

"Albus said we will only be here for a little over a month," she continued, knowing how much the man beside her hated being away from his 'office.' Even this bit of reassurance couldn't ease his tense scowl.

"A little over a month?" he sneered. "And what happens after the boy receives his letter, Minerva? We leave him here and return to Hogwarts, knowing that his loving relatives will faithfully get him to school on time? I honestly wouldn't be surprised if we're trapped here for more than two months."

Minerva shook her head in exasperation. "Why must you always make things so difficult for yourself Severus?"

"Why must Dumbledore always send _me_ to do what he is perfectly capable of doing himself?"

"Severus, you know he is quite overworked as it is with all of the Muggleborn admissions this year. If you do not wish to stay here, then I suggest you leave while you still can."

Severus glared at his colleague through the darkness that engulfed them. He hated the way she tried to act as though she was still his teacher, despite the fact that they were supposedly equals now. Dumbledore ordering him around like a brainwashed puppet was bad enough; he didn't need Minerva doing the same!

"I am staying," he said bitterly, remembering the promise he made to Dumbledore eleven years ago, even though the old headmaster failed to uphold his end of the bargain, keeping only one third of the Potter family safe.

Minerva nodded curtly, then flicked her wand at the door; the Muggles that lived here had failed to leave behind their house keys, and magic the only option left. With another swish of her wand, their luggage was sent flying through the doorway, saving a lot of time and effort on their part.

If the luminescent moon had not been shielded by clouds tonight, one of their neighbours might have seen the suitcases soaring into the home on their own accord…

Petunia Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, was staring out the window in shock: since when did the Lanthers begin renting out their home to strangers? She couldn't see much more than their faint outlines, but she knew the Lanthers were much shorter than the couple that stood outside. They also had four children, but there were no children in sight with these two.

Petunia's heart raced as she wondered how she could have possibly missed the Lanthers' departure. All she ever did was spy on her neighbours; how could she have ignored something as significant as these new people moving in?

_It's the boy's fault,_ she reassured herself at once. If the boy hadn't dropped her favourite tea kettle this afternoon, she wouldn't have had to spend her entire afternoon inside, yelling at him and punishing him for his clumsiness.

"Vernon, come quickly!" she hissed to her husband, who was slouching on the couch next to her beloved Diddykins, watching the evening news. Both of them ignored her. Vernon's eyes were glued to the telly, and even Dudley had a trancelike look about him, with melted strawberry ice cream dribbling down his chin as he sat, unblinking. Had she not loved her boys as much as she did, Petunia would have taken away their ice cream cartons and slammed them onto their heads.

"_Vernon!_" she shrieked as she got a brief glimpse of what the neighbours were wearing. Was it just her imagination, or were they wearing _cloaks_?

"What is it, Petunia?" Vernon asked impatiently, remaining in his seat just a foot or two from the telly.

"There are people outside!"

"That's just the neighbours, dear."

Outside, Petunia's frantic shrieking rang through the otherwise silent night, catching the attention of her number three's newest inhabitants.

"Would that be dear Petunia?" Minerva asked looking on in disgust as the woman continued to gawk unashamedly at them. She hadn't seen the woman since they had left Harry Potter on her family's doorstop ten years ago. Apparently she hadn't changed either her demeanour or physical appearance since.

Although it had been nearly fifteen years since he had seen her last, Severus recognized her as well. Even as an adult, she still had the limp blonde hair, the overlarge neck, and the bratty attitude that Severus was already accustomed to seeing in nearly every student that walked through his classroom.

He silently cursed her existence as her husband walked up to the window and peered out at him and Minerva. If it weren't for Petunia— or 'Tuney' as Severus remembered her— he wouldn't have been forced to take Polyjuice Potion for nearly every waking moment during his stay here at Privet Drive. He didn't care if she recognized him, but Dumbledore wanted to ensure maximum normalcy during their stay, in order to see how the Dursleys treated their nephew in a natural setting.

Severus knew it was highly unlikely that Dumbledore was truly concerned for the boy's wellbeing, but, as always, he went along with whatever the headmaster asked him to do.

He wasn't the only victim of Dumbledore's brilliant plans, after all. Mrs. Figg had also been manipulated into looking out for the boy since he was a baby— on Dumbledore's orders, of course. Recently, she had reported an increase in the Dursleys' aggression toward the boy, leading to the little mission Severus and Minerva were currently embarking on.

Old Mrs. Figg lived a street over from the Dursleys and wasn't on the best of terms with them. They merely used her to babysit the boy when they were going somewhere special and didn't want him along to ruin it. Severus didn't quite understand the old man's motivations for sending him and Minerva to investigate— the Squib was proficient, in Severus' opinion— and he didn't care for the plan, either. Suffering through a round of Cruciatus Curses sounded more fun than attempting to become friends with his ex-best friend's awful sister and her equally atrocious family.

Not to mention Potter. Bloody. Stupid. _Potter._ Severus' past, present, and future.

He knew he'd have to face the brat someday, but why couldn't their first encounter be at Hogwarts, where Severus would have all of the authority, and Potter would be just another scrawny little first year? Could that possibly explain why Dumbledore hadn't just sent Minerva along, but insisted that Severus went as well? To torture him? To make him see the supposedly 'abused' Boy-Who-Lived and suddenly forget what the brat's father did to him several years ago? Did Dumbledore _honestly_ think he would have sympathy for _any_ child of James Potter's?

He might have agreed to protect him for Dumbledore, but that did not mean he had to _like_ the boy!

Although he and Minerva were trying to pretend they didn't see the Dursleys watching them from their downstairs window, he couldn't resist glancing briefly in their direction, looking for some sign of Potter. Unless the chubby blonde boy was Potter, he wasn't there.

Severus found himself wondering what Potter might look like. The only piece of information regarding the boy's appearance he had ever gotten was that he has his mother's eyes. And something about a scar. For all he knew, Dumbledore had flat-out lied to him about the boy's eyes and he was a perfect reincarnation of James Potter. Severus shuddered as he tried to imagine it. He momentarily considered prodding Minerva for answers, but quickly decided against it. He didn't want to appear as though he was actually _interested_ in Potter, especially to Minerva, who was already trying to convince him that he would grow fond of Potter…eventually. Severus was determined to prove her wrong.

While she hadn't seen Potter since he was an infant, Minerva had adored his mother when she was her student, and she had tolerated his father. Severus was fairly certain the boy would follow in his parents' footsteps and become a Gryffindor, which only deepened his loathing for the boy, whom he hadn't even met yet. Of course Minerva would like him; she was going to be his Head of House.

Without realizing what he was doing, Severus yawned. He had been too focused on his thoughts to remember to hide his exhaustion from Minerva, and she immediately noticed this.

"Let's go inside, shall we?" she sighed, knowing that one wrong word would further irritate her temperamental colleague. So far, he had been strangely relaxed about the whole situation, but she knew he was quite skilled at hiding how he was truly feeling…if he felt anything at all, which she sometimes believed to be impossible.

"I am not a child, Minerva," he snapped at her as she gently pressed her hand against his back, trying to lead him inside. "I am perfectly capable of finding the entrance by myself."

As soon as the billowing black robes disappeared through the doorway, Minerva frowned. _It's going to be a long summer._

**xXxXxXxXx**

The next morning, after a fitful night's sleep, Severus awoke in a room that was far too small and far too bright. Hoping to make him at least somewhat happy, Minerva had allowed him to take the master bedroom, while she settled for the guest room. Severus wasn't fooled, however. Being an expert at Transfiguration, she had undoubtedly increased the size of the room tenfold with a mere flick of the wand, and she probably didn't have to paint the walls before turning in for the night as Severus had, seeing as his walls were covered with sickeningly sweet flower garden designs. There was also his problematic window, which still allowed sunlight through; despite the variety of spells Severus had placed upon it to block such a nuisance. The king-sized bed upon the mahogany frame was not his own, and he was utterly revolted by the thought of what the previous occupants might have done in it. Luckily Severus was somewhat skilled in Transfiguration and created his own bed, though it was not as comfortable or familiar as the bed in his private quarters in the dungeons at Hogwarts, which only further disturbed his already poor night's sleep.

To make things worse, Minerva had ensured that there were no cloaks or robes in his wardrobe, lest he be tempted to 'forget' that he was supposed to be posing as a Muggle. The casual black pants and emerald green polo shirt were unbearably repulsive, and the fact that Minerva had laid this out for him like a mother would for a young child made him want to Transfigure everything into his old black robes, just to spite her. He was thirty one years old, not five!

Feeling thoroughly annoyed and even mildly embarrassed once he put the new clothes on, he began trudging his way downstairs, where he could smell something burning in the kitchen. His sagging clothes were far too loose on his thin frame, but they would fit once Mummy McGonagall spoon-fed him his first dose of Polyjuice Potion for the day.

Perhaps it was a good thing he never married; Severus couldn't even go twenty four hours without getting frustrated with his 'wife' and they weren't even married at all! He had known Minerva nearly his entire life: first as a student, later on as a fellow professor. While they maintained civility toward each other, they had never been particularly close. Now that they were going to be trapped with each other all the time for at least the next month, however, she seemed to be putting forth an effort to show him basic kindness. Severus decided that he would definitely prefer it if Minerva completely ignored him, but that didn't seem too likely for a while.

"Good morning, Severus," she said in a strained voice as he entered the kitchen. She was trying to cook, Muggle-style, and she was failing miserably. Seeing Minerva, standing in a kitchen and clothed in Muggle attire was one of the strangest scenarios Severus had ever seen. She was so stern and uptight at Hogwarts that it was disconcerting to see her face etched with aggravation as she attempted to scramble a stubborn egg.

"Morning," he muttered under his breath, finding nothing in his day that he would have considered 'good' since waking. He was not accustomed to this much sunlight…ever. He rarely left his dungeons, and when he did, he always made sure it was after the sun had set.

"I haven't tried cooking on my own in years," Minerva continued as she jabbed a carrot peeler at the egg, which was starting to brown and harden in the pan. Without warning, the toaster suddenly exploded behind them, scattering bread crumbs all over their new Muggle clothes.

Gritting his teeth, Severus whisked away the bits from his clothes with his wand, but Minerva didn't bother with magic, instead she brushed them off of her burgundy sweater with her hands.

"Do you have a wand or not?" Severus snapped as the Muggle fire alert system began loudly beeping throughout the house. The sausages were burning now.

"If we're going to live around Muggles for a while, then we ought to live as they do," Minerva replied sternly.

"You may have forgotten, Minerva—_silencio!_" the beeping finally stopped, "— but I grew up with a Muggle father and see absolutely no reason to act as one when in the company of a fellow wizard."

To prove his point, he flicked his wand at Minerva's disaster area also known as the stovetop and Vanished the remainder of the breakfast she had been unsuccessfully trying to cook.

The old you're-in-trouble-now expression that she had often used when he had been her student returned, but Severus was undeterred. Just because he had agreed to go along with the plan didn't mean he had to suddenly sprout kindness and goodwill from every pore of his body.

Shaking her head, Minerva finally resorted to using her wand to clean up the remaining grease residue from the pans. "I honestly don't know how house elves can possibly cook with such little magic," she muttered as she waved her wand at the food cabinets, magically preparing a cold breakfast in seconds. It tasted nothing like the delectable Hogwarts-style meals, but it was enough.

"We're going to meet our neighbours today," Minerva said slowly after a long period of silence. She waited for Severus to lash out or complain endlessly how he wouldn't be coming with her, but to her surprise, he just ignored her. Typical Severus.

She watched him for quite some time, wondering if there was anyone on earth who could look more miserable while eating a sugar-packed cereal than him. Since she usually sat next to the always-ravenous Hagrid at Hogwarts, she was not used to seeing someone eat so little. It was easy to see why he was so thin, he was practically anorexic.

"We're leaving in ten minutes," Minerva said stiffly as she got to her feet. Severus continued keeping his attention solely on the bowl in front of him; only when Minerva placed a small flask of what looked like Polyjuice Potion in front of him did he avert his gaze.

Still annoyed by his lack of response, Minerva stalked off, leaving Severus to his thoughts.

He wondered how Petunia would react if he showed up as himself. Smirking, he thought if she fainted he could send her unconscious body to Dumbledore as a token of gratitude for sending him to Privet Drive with the irksome Gryffindor queen. Petunia had always wanted to go to Hogwarts, after all…

Remembering Dumbledore's warning about keeping the atmosphere as calm and normal as possible, he reluctantly drank the potion and pocketed his wand as he headed for the door. If he was meeting Harry Potter today, he might just need it.

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**Please review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Thank you for all of your great comments. I'm extremely pleased with the initial response. Enjoy~_

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Harry Potter._

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"You're burning the bacon, boy!"

"Mummy, he _always_ ruins my breakfast!"

"I do not! Why don't you cook it yourself?"

"Easy boy…you don't want another lashing now, do you?"

It was total chaos at number four, Privet Drive this morning. Normally, Vernon Dursley would have been at the office right now, but his son was feeling ill today, so he had stayed home to help his wife cater to their boy's every whim and desire. He had been hoping to be able to sit back and relax with his morning tea and newspaper, but as usual, _the boy_ had to spoil everything. Vernon had already caught him trying to sneak a piece of bacon for himself**;** as a result, the boy was to go hungry until lunchtime.

Harry frantically poked at the greasy bacon, trying to keep it from catching fire, but his attempts were futile. The smoke detector began beeping loudly, and his glasses were soon engulfed in black smoke.

"Mummy!" Dudley squealed at the top of his lungs. "I can't hear the telly!"

"Vernon, do something!" Petunia shrieked as she rushed to open the back door for some fresh air.

Unsure of what to do, Vernon flung a nearby window open and tossed the smouldering pan out onto the grass, torching it slightly.

In the midst of this insanity, the doorbell chimed, though it was barely audible to the Dursleys over Dudley's crying, Petunia's wailing, and smoke detector ringing.

"Get out of here, boy!" Vernon roared at Harry. His face had turned purple as it always did when he was angry, and the veins were popping out on his forehead, giving him an odd, monstrous appearance. Harry immediately did as he was told, knowing there was a violent punishment waiting for him in the near future. He sprinted to the hallway and slammed his cupboard door behind him, hoping the visitors would distract his relatives long enough for them to forget why they were going to punish him.

Harry could hear Dudley still screaming in the kitchen, but the sounds from the outside world were muffled now, and he felt himself slowly relaxing. He was safe…for now.

Ruining his cousin's breakfast wasn't entirely Harry's fault. He was just too tired to pay attention to what he was doing today. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night**;** there had been too many strange dreams involving an unfamiliar red-haired woman and the green flash of light. There was another dream about three mysterious people whom he didn't recognize. One of them was an old man with a long white beard and an interesting pair of spectacles, another was a giant man covered in facial hair, and the third person was a tall woman with black hair, square glasses and a crooked hat. He didn't remember seeing their faces, and when he had woken up, he shrugged it off as just another weird dream. He'd never seen people who looked like that in his entire life, after all.

When most of the smoke had been cleared from the Dursleys' kitchen through the back door and the burnt bacon was thrown out, Petunia rushed to the door. Just before opening it, she hurriedly brushed the toast crumbs off of her vivid pink skirt and glanced at herself in the mirror, ensuring that she looked presentable for her visitors.

On her doorstep, a man and an older woman were waiting patiently. The woman had jet-black hair and a strained, though pleasant smile. The man, on the other hand, was staring at Petunia with a stony expression in which she wasn't sure how to interpret.

"Hello," the older woman greeted her warmly. "I am Madeline Miller, and this is my husband, Tobias. We just moved in next door and were hoping to meet some of our neighbours."

Petunia gawked in the direction the woman was pointing. These two were the new neighbours?! She looked back at them and scrutinized their appearances: they both _seemed_ reasonably normal. So had she imagined the _cloaks_ after all?

"I—I'm delighted to meet you," she stammered. "I'm Petunia Dursley."

The woman's smile remained unchanged, but for some unknown reason, the man smirked.

"I love your garden," Mrs. Miller continued conversationally as she kneeled down to examine their flowers. "Petunias, lilacs, morning glories, roses…"

"No lilies?" the man sneered, making Petunia highly uncomfortable for a few moments before she realized it was just a coincidence that he mentioned it. She had so many different flowers out here that a fairly knowledgeable botanist could easily notice which common type of flower was absent.

"Please, come in."

Petunia had been so startled by their unexpected visit that she automatically invited them inside. She loved showing off her impeccable home and family, and with the boy safely hidden away in his cupboard, she didn't have to worry about any funny business.

Luckily, the kitchen was perfectly clean and calm when the three walked in, allowing Petunia to relax slightly. Her boys were simply munching away at their morning cereal as they watched the news. It almost seemed as though nothing had happened at all.

She noticed the Millers shooting furtive glances at each other behind her back, but she ignored this.

"This is my husband, Vernon," Petunia gestured to the large, beefy man sitting closest to the TV. "Vernon? These are the Millers…our new neighbours."

"And that would be your son, I suspect?" Mrs. Miller inquired, nodding to Dudley.

Petunia's face lit up and she nodded. "Diddykins, can you say hello to our new neighbours like a good boy?"

Without looking up, Dudley grunted and continued shoving food into his mouth as though he hadn't been fed in weeks.

"What a…_lovely_ boy," Mrs. Miller said weakly.

"Is he your only one?" Mr. Miller asked, feigning curiosity as his eyes bore into Petunia's.

"Oh yes, we only have one son," Petunia replied far too quickly. She immediately averted her gaze from Mr. Miller; the look he was giving her made chills run down her spine for reasons she couldn't explain. "Please have a seat."

She hurriedly pulled the fourth chair out for Mrs. Miller, and ran into the sitting room to find another for Mr. Miller.

**xXxXxXxXx**

While Petunia was gone, Severus and Minerva continued watching Dudley in disgust. The boy was a pig, just like his father, and aside from his overinflated cheeks, there was nothing special about him. So this was the family the Boy-Who-Lived had been staying with for the past decade? The son of two deceased Order of the Phoenix members, living _here_, in a plain Muggle neighbourhood with a family full of wretched simpletons?

Their initial jitteriness had become apprehension, as Harry Potter was nowhere in sight. Minerva wanted to approach the subject of their nephew slowly, since they weren't exactly supposed to reveal that they knew about Potter. Severus, who was finding it rather difficult not to say anything rude to Petunia, decided he would let Minerva handle it. He was still firmly against Dumbledore's plan for 'maximum normalcy' but he knew better than to do what the headmaster had specifically told him _not_ to do. It would be best if he just held his tongue.

"So…what do you do for a living?" Vernon asked aggressively once Severus reluctantly took the seat next to him.

"I'm a scientist," Severus replied lazily. "I conduct dangerous chemical experiments for major corporations."

Vernon looked mightily impressed. "You're a businessman, then?"

"Sure."

"Excellent. I'm the director at Grunnings Drills myself," he bragged. He turned to Minerva. "And do you do anything, or do you stay home with your kids like Petunia here?"

"I'm a teacher," Minerva said truthfully. "But Tobias and I don't have children. I think they're wonderful but he—" she shot a glare at Severus, "—doesn't care for them."

Severus Snape 'not caring' for children had to be the understatement of the century. He _hated_ them. Especially the little prick that was still inhaling food to his left. If Potter was anything like the Dursley's son, then Severus was certain he would hate him as well. He could only imagine what he was like: a disrespectful and spoiled little git who would always be demanding more, more, more. James had been the same way. Like father, like son.

Although Severus immensely enjoyed berating James' son, a new concern arose: where was Potter?

Severus remembered walking past a table on their way inside, where dozens of pictures of Dudley and his parents had been enshrined in spotless glass frames. Not one picture contained a boy that resembled James or Lily. There were no signs that Potter lived here at all. Perhaps the Dursleys had carted him off to an orphanage?

"May I use the loo?" Severus asked suddenly. It was time to investigate. Vernon had been blabbering on about his stupid drill company while the ladies continued talking about children, and Severus had had enough. He was not a socially-conscious individual, and the only reason he was wasting nearly two months of his life here at Privet Drive was for Potter.

"It's the first door on the left upstairs," Vernon said, disappointed to see that Severus couldn't have cared less about Grunnings.

Once Severus was away from the dining room, he began heading down the hallway, searching for any miniscule sign that a fourth person lived here. There were no clothes in the utility room that would fit a boy smaller than Dudley (unless of course, Potter was the other boy's size, which Severus rather doubted), and all of the toys that were strewn about were labelled 'Dudley.' Even the TV was labelled 'Dudley.'

He cast a nonverbal _Muffliato_ charm in the direction of the kitchen, then began opening the drawers and cabinets, hoping to find one shred of evidence that Potter was still here. He knew it was considered impolite to rummage around people's homes, but since it was _Tuney's_ home— the girl who had always secretly listened in on his and Lily's private conversations about magic and Hogwarts when they were kids— he felt no remorse for returning the favour. Furthermore, he had already gone through her belongings once in his life and found grand treasures, such as her letter to Dumbledore, pleading him to allow her into Hogwarts. Perhaps he would get lucky again…

Realizing there was nothing of interest in the sitting room; Severus made his way over to the stairs. Just before his foot touched down on the first step, he spotted a small door on the side of the stairway. He heard a faint rumbling sound emitting from it, and while he was fairly certain the boy was hiding somewhere upstairs, he felt a strong, inexplicable urge to at least check the door before going up. There was a very good chance that it only stored Petunia's cleaning supplies, but when Severus reached up to the tiny brass knob and saw that it was locked, he was intrigued.

He pulled out his wand again and pointed it at the lock, nonverbally casting _Alohamora_ as he did so.

The door quietly cracked open on its own, revealing a sleeping boy in the cramped room. Severus knew better than to push his luck and open it wider for a clearer glimpse at the boy; instead he continued staring at the boy from where he knelt.

Although most of his body was hidden by shadows, Severus could immediately see that Potter was a splitting image of James. _Fantastic._

It looked like he had inherited James' poor eyesight and messy black hair, and there was the lightning-bolt scar Dumbledore had told him about, zigzagging down the middle of his forehead.

Severus' fingers twitched anxiously in his pocket. He wanted to see the scar in its entirety, not as a little mark obscured by the boy's raven-coloured locks. He wanted to know he wasn't just imagining the minor disfigurement, the mark the Dark Lord have given him just seconds after killing his lovely and hopelessly courageous mother…

But Severus held back. He did not wish to wake the boy, and honestly, one little scratch was nothing compared to the dozens of scars Severus himself had acquired after years of excruciating assaults from James and his friends. Potter may have survived the Killing Curse, but that did not make him special. Not to Severus, anyway.

Overall, he was highly disappointed with Potter's appearance. From what he could see, Potter hadn't taken after his mother at all. His anger toward Dumbledore reignited; he had probably been lying about the boy's eyes all along. He was a perfect copy of his father, as though hell itself had spat him out for a new generation of torment for Severus. When his eyes opened, would he see the same taunting hazel eyes he had seen not too long ago?

Shuddering slightly, Severus carefully closed the door. In a sudden fit of rage, he wondered why the boy had to survive if Lily couldn't. If she had to die, then why couldn't the baby die along with her? Severus would have been free of this miserable existence, doing something he actually _wanted_ to do, not teaching a bunch of dunderheads how to brew amateurish potions year after year. If Harry Potter had died, he could have abandoned Dumbledore and his pathetic post at Hogwarts, since there would have been no boy to protect. But would he have been truly free?

_There was always Azkaban,_ Severus reminded himself. If it weren't for Dumbledore's crafty scheming, he would have undoubtedly been sent there to spend the remainder of his days with the dementors. And Black. Sirius Black, who, to Severus, was just as bad as James Potter. He was currently residing in Azkaban for life along with the rest of the Death Eaters who hadn't gotten lucky as Severus had.

Perhaps Potter's survival and Severus' subsequent enslavement weren't so bad, after all.

**xXxXxXxXx**

Severus was accustomed to hearing many peculiar noises as he slept at night— for instance: scurrying rats, whistling wind gusts, and the sizzle of potions brewing outside of his private quarters at Hogwarts— but the crying of a small boy was definitely a new one.

It was coming from next door, at number four, Privet Drive. It was only ten o'clock, so it was probably too early for the Dursley boy or Potter to be having a bad nightmare. There were many possible explanations for this, but Severus had an inkling of what it might be, as he, too, had experienced it several times as a child. Someone was getting a lashing.

Judging by the way Petunia and Vernon treated their precious 'Diddilydums,' Severus was forced to conclude that the occasional whimpers were coming from Potter. He _almost_ felt sorry for him, seeing as it was his fault for inquiring about the sleeping boy in the cupboard. The Dursleys were horrified to hear that he found out about Potter and began making all sorts of excuses for him, from mental derangement to severe antisocial disorders.

Vernon had been going to beat the boy, or 'teach him not to make such a racket,' until Minerva pleaded for him to leave the boy alone. He had reluctantly agreed, but Severus knew the beatings would come later anyway.

He silently contemplated which man was worse: one who beat children with alcohol as the driving force, or one who did it entirely on his own accord…

Although Minerva had wanted to stay behind to ensure Potter's safety, they had to leave the Dursley home once the Polyjuice Potion began to show signs of wearing off. Since Minerva hadn't been able to meet Potter, she promptly invited the _entire_ family over for a dinner party on Friday. Petunia instinctively tried making an excuse for the boy, but Minerva sternly reminded her that she was experienced in dealing with 'problematic juveniles' and she made it quite clear that there was to be no arguing with 'Maddie Miller.'

"You…ungrateful…little…son of a bitch!" Severus heard Vernon bellowing as the belt continued to fall on what sounded like Potter's bare skin. The boy actually yelled out after a particularly harsh strike. Severus winced. He wondered if the Dursleys knew that their neighbours could hear them. If they did, they certainly didn't care.

A tiny part of him _almost_ felt sympathy for Potter, knowing what it was like to be the little boy pitted against a leather belt and an abusive adult. On the other hand, his authority figure, teacher-side reminded him that without discipline, children become unruly and uncontrollable monsters. Take James Potter, for example. The boy had been raised a selfish, arrogant prat, and Minerva and Dumbledore's failure to control him over the years resulted in nothing but pain and suffering for Severus. At least _Black_ had gotten what he deserved in the end.

With the happy thought that Potter had definitely done _something_ to deserve his uncle's abuse, Severus quietly returned to the land of slumber, indifferently ignorant of just how similar he and Harry Potter actually were.

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**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Thank you for your comments, I am sorry about the wait. Enjoy~_

**Disclaimer: **_Still don't own Harry Potter..._

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"Blasted Muggle contraption," Severus muttered under his breath as his increasingly-arthritic fingers fiddled with the infuriating multicoloured cube.

Strictly abiding by Dumbledore's orders as she always did, Minerva had banished all traces of magic from their new home, apart from their wands. Severus' one small reprieve from the insufferable boredom came in the form of a 'Rubik's Cube.' If he could complete it, Minerva said she would permit basic experimentation, but at the rate he was going, Severus wouldn't be brewing anything until he was back at Hogwarts. Why Minerva suddenly thought she was in charge of the household was beyond him, but he had regretfully agreed to Dumbledore's no-magic policy, therefore he would keep his word.

Severus could see his colleague wasn't exactly having the time of her life either. She had taken to obsessively studying Muggle newspapers— they couldn't get the _Prophet,_ as the owl post would have attracted unwanted attention— and when there was nothing of interest in their news, she would dully make her way into the kitchen and begin cooking whatever suited her fancy, determined to learn how to manually prepare a decent meal before the end of their summer holiday.

At last, Friday night arrived. The Dursleys and Potter were coming around five, giving Severus and Minerva the entire day to do…absolutely _nothing._ Again. The monotony was maddening, and they still had four to six weeks of this!

After spending much of his day Transfiguring objects at random, Severus was so startled by the knock at the door ten minutes prior to five that he nearly fell off of his chair. The inactivity was literally mind-numbing; it was only a matter of time before he broke down and started watching Muggle television…

"Severus, can you let them in?" Minerva asked in a strained voice. He glanced into the kitchen: as expected, black smoke was everywhere. Minerva was _still_ trying to cook without using magic. _Pathetic._

Pulling out his wand, Severus charged into the blazing inferno— or what felt like one, as Minerva had put the oven on much too high and the new toaster was rapidly overheating. A simple Cooling Charm would soon see to that.

Minerva glared at him when he came in, but he was undeterred. "You fetch our guests. I will clean up your mess."

"My, aren't you the gentleman?" Minerva snapped crossly before pulling out her own wand and siphoning the smoke out of the air. She roughly gestured for him to get the door, but he held his ground, no longer willing to allow her to order him around like some mongrel pup.

Her eyes narrowed at his blatant defiance, but after the umpteenth knock at the door, she stormed off to open it herself.

"Hello Petunia, Vernon," Minerva smiled as kindly as she could manage for the Dursleys. She could see Dudley's huge frame towering behind his mum, but Potter was nowhere in sight. She told Petunia to bring him; had she still refused to bring the boy out in public?

"Hello Dudley," Minerva said as the boy squeezed in between his parents, smelling the air hopefully.

"What do you say Diddy?" Petunia nudged her son, trying to get him to show some basic manners.

"Where's the food?" he mumbled, much to Minerva's amusement.

"Such a silly boy!" Petunia cried affectionately as she threw her arms around her son.

"Please come in."

The three Dursleys eagerly stepped into the hallway, leaving behind a lone, scrawny boy with cheap round glasses and untidy black hair. The Dursleys hadn't even bothered introducing him or mentioning that he was even present, and yet the boy had been standing behind Vernon the entire time, Minerva realized.

"You can come in, too," Minerva said in a constricted voice, trying not to focus on those memories of James and Lily's tragic deaths just ten years ago. Seeing the little baby that Dumbledore had left on the Dursleys' doorstop, now almost eleven years old, made her eyes tear up. His appearance hadn't changed much over the years, aside from the change in height, anyway. He looked a bit underfed under those layers of oversized clothing, but the bright green eyes Minerva had once seen in Lily were as lively as ever, even if his quiet personality didn't reflect that.

When Harry cautiously stepped through the door, Minerva gently placed her hand on his shoulder to lead him in, but pulled away when the boy flinched. Did he think she was going to hurt him…?

"Oh Madeline, this must have taken you hours to prepare!" Petunia gushed as the family entered the dining area. It seemed as though the Dursleys were still completely unaware of Harry's presence.

Minerva was stunned when she saw the table: Severus had cleaned up everything and set out a fantastic meal in just two minutes flat. Obviously he cheated, but she couldn't help admiring what could have taken a Muggle all day to create. The subtle Slytherin-themed tablecloth did not go unnoticed, of course, but she would allow it just this one time. For someone who had been to less than two formal parties in his entire life, Severus certainly had an eye for décor. If only he would do the same for his office and classroom…

One of the knives Severus had bewitched was pounding steadily on the cutting board in the kitchen, and the glasses refilled themselves when nobody was looking. The effort put into everything must have been amazing from a Muggle's point of view, but this was really just another average meal to anyone who had ever eaten at Hogwarts.

"Tobias," Minerva called out to him as she firmly reminded herself not to slip up and accidentally say 'Severus' in front of Petunia. "The Dursleys are here."

_Thank you for informing me, Minerva, I couldn't have figured that out for myself,_ Severus thought irritably as he pocketed his wand and hurriedly forced down a rather large gulp of Polyjuice Potion. After stowing away the enchanted cooking utensils, he manually carried out a basket of ciabatta rolls and the margarine plate to make it seem as though he had prepared this entirely on his own.

Within three seconds, the basket fell to the floor, spewing out its contents onto the pristine white carpeting. That was when Severus saw _him_.

The boy was cowering behind Minerva, but Severus could see him much more clearly in this setting than in that musty old cupboard in the Dursleys' home. His vivid green eyes watched him suspiciously, wondering if he, 'Mr. Miller,' was a friend or foe. The explosion of messy black hair was not unexpected, as James' hair had been exactly the same. His clothes were ancient, frayed and greyed, and looked to be at least five sizes too big for him. His second-hand shoes were so worn and beat up that Severus couldn't have guessed what colour they were originally. The specks of blood on his socks were the most disturbing attributes to this fashion-incompetent child; some of the blood was dried, some of it was fresh. Where it had come from was anybody's guess. There were massive purple bruises on what little of the boy's neck Severus could see; much of his bare skin was concealed beneath a scarf, an odd sight during the summertime.

Severus glanced over at Minerva. She was clearly horrified by the boy's appearance, but was currently pretending to be thoroughly interested in Petunia's thoughtful inspection of their home. In front of him, Vernon's lips were moving, words probably directed at Severus, but he didn't hear a word the man was saying.

Overall, Potter was much plainer than he had initially expected. Given the arrogant show-off he had had for a father, Severus had been expecting a bit more from Potter appearance-wise, but was somewhat cheered by the fact that the Boy-Who-Lived really wasn't all that spectacular to look at. The long, lightning-bolt scar stuck out oddly on the boy's otherwise pale and unblemished forehead; that must have been where the Killing Curse had hit and inexplicably failed to murder him. In spite of himself, Severus was intrigued by the strange mark.

Just as Petunia began obnoxiously shuffling through a large pile of their magazines—several issues of _Transfiguration Today_ were at the bottom— Minerva cleared her throat loudly. "This must be Harry, yes?"

The Dursleys turned around and gaped at her and Harry, as though realizing for the first time that he had come along to the Millers' house.

"How'd you know his name?" Dudley grunted as he picked a few rolls off of the ground by Severus' feet and greedily stuffed them into his mouth. Severus desperately wanted to smack the child for being such a gluttonous pig, but reluctantly refrained from doing so once he remembered that he was no longer the strict disciplinarian, Severus Snape, but the child-loving, happily-married Muggle scientist, Tobias Miller.

"Your mother told me, dear," Minerva replied smoothly, knowing that she had seriously slipped up. "Shall we eat before the food spoils?"

At the mention of 'food,' Dudley was all ears. He nearly crushed the chair in excitement as he sat down and began stuffing various forkfuls of each entrée into his mouth; his parents did absolutely nothing to stop their son from eating nearly everything on the table. Harry only sat down when Minerva prodded him to, and he only started eating once his aunt and uncle were too distracted by the neighbours to notice him tentatively reaching out for something to silence the rarely-fed monster in his stomach.

"You can have more, there's plenty left," Minerva encouraged Harry after he only took a tiny spoonful of the exquisite French soup.

"Nonsense," Petunia spat, glaring at Harry as she spoke. "He has enough."

Harry did not question his aunt and shyly refused any further offers of food from Minerva, who was growing more and more concerned with his wellbeing the longer she was around his relatives.

Dudley's tongue was like a conveyor belt at a factory: big and never-slowing. Harry was so hungry that he eventually couldn't help but follow suit**;** only when Vernon yelled at him to slow down and show some proper manners did he put his fork down and hesitantly proclaim that he was full. Vernon and Petunia said nothing to Dudley, who continued to plough through each course like a high-speed freight train for a solid half hour until there was simply nothing left for him to eat.

Dessert was treacle tart and ice cream. Severus, who hated sugar— and most other foods for that matter— had none, and Harry, whose reflexes were slower than his cousin's when it came to afters, also had none.

A bubble of rage welled up in Minerva that had nothing to do with desserts, but rather the deliberate favouritism the Dursleys displayed toward Dudley. How could they treat a boy, their own _nephew_, with such indifference and spitefulness? The boy, who had lost what would have been kind and loving parents, was being treated like filth by his own relatives. Minerva was furious.

Severus, on the other hand, was wholly unaffected by Potter's predicament. He himself had been subjected to similar treatment as a boy and nobody had come to his rescue— why should Potter be any different? Life's struggles had taught Severus things James Potter never knew, having been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Perhaps this generation's Potter would know to obey his authorities and respect his peers. If that was the case, Severus saw no reason to help the boy.

"He's quite a bully," Vernon informed Severus after dinner, when he had asked about Potter's bruised neck. "Vicious child, really. If it weren't for him being Petunia's…well, let's just say he would have been thrown in the mad house by now."

"Him being Petunia's…what exactly?" Severus inquired, feigning cluelessness, as he knew fully well that Vernon had been about to say "sister's son."

Vernon mumbled something under his breath that he couldn't hear nor understand, but it didn't matter either way.

"How did you get that interesting scar?" Severus could hear his colleague— erm, _wife_— asking Potter in the sitting room, followed by several rather pathetic excuses from a very flustered Petunia.

"Car crash," Harry whispered to who he thought was Mrs. Miller under the intense glare of his aunt. As he spoke, he unconsciously rubbed the lightning bolt, wondering why he didn't have more scars if the crash had really been as terrible as his relatives said it was…

"Happened many years ago, that's how he lost his parents," Petunia said hurriedly. Minerva was startled by the lack of any grief or sadness in her voice, but Severus, who was listening closely from the kitchen, knew not to expect much remorse from Petunia regarding her sister's death. Lying to the boy about how they died, though…that _almost_ made him a little angry…

"So, as I was saying about Dudley…" Petunia instantly brought the conversation back to her own precious son, as talking about the _boy_ only made her want to strangle him more. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why the Millers were so interested in Harry; did they actually _enjoy_ speaking with mentally deranged children, or was she not doing a good enough job of showing them what an angel Diddykins was compared to Harry?

Then again, she had to appreciate the obvious distaste Tobias expressed for the boy. Perhaps she was getting through to him, but Madeline was still fascinated by Harry, and quite frankly, it disturbed Petunia.

The Dursleys finally left at ten o'clock. Minerva was immensely relieved by their departure, as was Severus, who was pleased to see that Minerva hadn't detected his usage of the Confundus Charm on Dudley Dursley, who had been the one to convince his parents to leave.

It had been a horrible night full of meaningless conversations about business and drills, flowers and the local Muggle gossip. Minerva couldn't help but compare Petunia with the _Daily Prophet_'s newest reporter, Rita Skeeter, who knew as many dirty details about the happenings in the Wizarding world as Petunia did the Muggle world.

"I told Albus not to send Potter there," Minerva muttered once the Dursleys had gone. "Did you see his neck? The bruises!"

"Since when does Dumbledore listen to anyone but himself?" Severus asked, ignoring her concerns about the boy's neck. Yes, he had noticed it, but discussing the abuses inflicted upon him might make it seem as though Severus actually _cared_ about the boy. He shuddered at the thought.

Minerva sighed resignedly. She watched his hair go from light sandy brown back to black, and his stomach bulge disappeared, giving him the appearance of a decaying skeleton.

"Deny it all you want Severus, but I think you _are_ worried about him," she said quietly. He didn't look up from the Muggle publication he was supposedly reading: _Healthy Living for Active Women. _She knew he could hear her, but he didn't respond. He didn't _want_ to care. If he showed any compassion toward the boy, Minerva would think he was softening, and he would _not_ allow her to think that. Not of him.

Dumbledore said to spy on their neighbours, nothing more. And Severus would do just that.

**xXxXxXxXx**

_Just ignore him…he'll stop crying soon…it's probably not even _him_, just leave it be…he'll stop soon…_

But Potter's muffled sobs did not stop.

Severus was growing rather tired of his neighbours disrupting his sleep with the boy's nightly beatings, and if they didn't end soon, he swore he would go to extreme measures for a good night's rest. Minerva's Silencing Charms were obviously working for her, but for some unknown reason, Potter's persistent whimpering was able to penetrate every _Silencio_ Severus cast on his room.

Why the boy was outside in their yard while the rest of his family snored away peacefully within the confines of their darkened home, Severus didn't know. Had someone forgot to let Potter in at night, or was he thrown out? He wondered if the other neighbours could hear him. If they did, they weren't doing anything about it. Were they simply accustomed to this by now, or did they really not care at all?

Grabbing his wand from underneath his pillow, Severus quietly crept out of bed and peered out the window.

Potter was lying on his back on the dewy grass in a painfully contorted position. One of his legs was bending the wrong way and swelling up like a balloon, and Severus could see shiny crimson blood trickling down either sides of his face. A child's suffering was a familiar sight to him, but at least there was always Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts. Here, Potter had no one. His relatives didn't even notice how badly injured the boy was, let alone take him to a hospital, though Severus suspected this was because _they_ were the reason he had ended up like this. Why didn't anyone alert the authorities?!

Knowing this would be breaching his vow not to help Potter in any way, shape or form, but desperately craving sleep, Severus pulled on the one robe Minerva hadn't Transfigured into Muggle clothes and with a _crack_, he was gone. The next second, he was hiding in the bushes near the Dursleys' back fence, watching the boy writhe on the ground in agony, as though hit by a Cruciatus Curse that would have made even Bellatrix Lestrange proud.

Although he was fully aware that he had forgotten his Polyjuice Potion, Severus continued on toward the boy. Potter's cries had finally quieted, but he had come this far; healing the boy would only take a minute or two of his precious time…

Potter's eyes widened when he finally noticed Severus. He didn't say anything, he merely stared up at his saviour, the dark knight in billowing black robes, face obscured by curtains of long black hair, and a thin stick in his hand. Severus knew the boy was probably puzzled as to where he had come from, but if the boy wouldn't speak, then neither would he.

He immediately set to work on the worst injury, the boy's badly mangled and horrendously swollen leg. He did not say the incantations aloud, and he found himself rather enjoying Potter's astonishment. The boy had clearly never seen anyone performing actual magic before, and Severus was free to do so, as the boy was not a Muggle and Dumbledore's only request had been not to use magic around _Muggles_. He had said nothing about Potter, except that he and Minerva weren't allowed to tell him about Hogwarts until the thirty-first of July, Potter's eleventh birthday.

Severus finished in three minutes. Potter did not sit up, he seemed too shocked to do anything but stare up at Severus.

Unlocking the back door with just a mere flick of the wand, Severus pointed at it, silently telling the boy to go inside. He couldn't possibly bring Potter back with him, as his 'Mr. Miller' identity would be destroyed. No, the boy must return home.

Severus expected the boy to rebel, to tell him he was never going back to those wretched people ever again, but to Severus' mild surprise, Potter shakily got to his feet did as he was told. The boy glanced over his shoulder every step or two, having a million questions for this mysterious man but unable to find the voice to ask them. Once inside, he shut the door behind him, but continued watching as the man returned to the shadows.

_Only five more weeks, Potter_, Severus thought grimly as he Apparated back into his room. He could only hope that this would be the last time Potter needed his help.

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**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_Sorry about the long wait. I've been very busy with college stuff and studying for the SAT tests. Expect the next update within the next two weeks. Thank you for your comments on the previous chapter. _

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Harry Potter and never will. _

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"Dudley's quite..._aggressive _isn't he?"

"Dudley? He wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"He just shattered Potter's glasses with a rock."

"They're just playing, Tobias, calm down. I suppose you wouldn't understand unless you were around kids more often."

Severus said nothing but rolled his eyes when Vernon and the other fathers turned their attention back to the brawl between Potter and Dudley's friends.

More often? Teaching underage brats was his _life._ He was responsible for not only his Slytherins but virtually every other student at Hogwarts as well. And that was _a lot_ of kids.

The only thing he hated more than teaching was social events. Last night, Petunia had called to inform them that she was hosting a 'Welcome to Privet Drive' party for them, and they simply _must_ attend. Severus almost rejected the offer immediately, but then Minerva had intercepted the phone and told Petunia they'd love to go.

Severus was not pleased.

Socializing with other witches and wizards was bad enough, but _Muggles_ had to be the worst. All they ever talked about was their various sporting events and children, the two things Severus hated most.

Worst of all, he would have to see Potter again. He hadn't seen nor heard the boy since that night, and he had been hoping it would remain that way until that horrible day arrived when he would see Potter's face everyday in his Potions class.

At first, Severus had adamantly refused to go, but at Minerva's persistence and the promise of a new house elf to attend to the students' messes in his dungeons this year, he had reluctantly followed her to the party.

For the past two hours, he had been sitting outside with several other men— the fathers of Dudley's friends and a few of Vernon's co-workers— watching the young boys torment Potter. The adults were completely oblivious to Potter's condition— his broken glasses, blood dribbling down his lip where the Polkiss boy had punched him, a limp in his step from when Dudley had 'accidentally' mistaken his shin for a football— in fact, the men seemed to be enjoying the scene before them. A few even cheered on their sons as they tackled Potter, ignoring the cries from the poor boy that was smothered beneath them.

On several occasions, Severus' hand unconsciously went for his pocket, wanting to resolve the situation by magical means. Dumbledore's voice rang clear in his head every time, however: "_Do not resort to magic under any circumstances short of life-threatening ones."_

Severus clenched his fists angrily. Why did he allow Dumbledore to control him so? He was not a puppet, and as much as he wanted to hate Potter, he simply couldn't bring himself to believe that the boy deserved this kind of treatment any longer. If he had done something to actually deserve it, then Severus would completely understand, but the boys were torturing the boy because he was the only suitable punching bag in the proximity.

Still, the situation wasn't life-threatening, and one wrong move on his part would completely blow his cover. He wanted to charge up to those little brats and give them a Severus-Snape-style punishment, but even if he didn't use magic to discipline them, it would be all over for 'Tobias Miller' and the Dursleys would never allow them near their family again. Severus honestly didn't see what was so wrong with walking right up to Petunia and telling her who he was and why he was here, but deep down, he knew Dumbledore didn't want it to happen like that. Why the old man wanted things to be as they were now, Severus could not say, but he figured it would be better for him to remain in Dumbledore's good graces and go along with the plan, no matter how idiotic it might seem.

After one particularly harsh blow to his stomach area by Dudley's fist, Potter fell backward and writhed on the ground, gasping for air. Severus immediately got to his feet, unable to simply sit there and watch any longer.

"What're you doing, Miller?" one of the fathers asked. Severus ignored all of them and hurried over to where Potter now lay, motionless. Just before he got there, however, Potter sat up all by himself and glared at the gang of boys standing a few feet in front of him. Suddenly, every one of the boys' faces began to turn a nasty scarlet colour, and enormous blisters appeared all over their skin. Then the boils came, popping through the skin and expanding to epic proportions. The boys screamed in terror and clawed at their faces as their anxious fathers leaped to their feet and ran over to calm them down.

Severus merely stood there. He was enjoying seeing the bullies get what they deserved, but he was also concerned with Potter's usage of accidental magic for destructive purposes. While it wasn't exactly Dark magic, he had to wonder if the boy consciously knew what he was doing.

Apparently Vernon knew Potter had done something, judging by the tone in which he yelled at him.

"What did you do to them, boy?!" he roared. Severus found it quite amusing to see just how purple the man's face got when he was angry.

Potter, genuinely startled by what had happened, shook his head wildly.

"I don't know!" he cried as Vernon slapped him across the face. Dudley was still screaming behind them, but by now the women had all come out to the yard to see what all of the commotion was about, and Petunia immediately began sobbing over her poor baby boy's "ouchies."

"Set them right!" Vernon yelled, striking the boy a second time.

"I didn't do anything!" Potter cried, tears streaming down his face from the sting of his uncle's abuse. "It wasn't me, I swear!"

"Liar!" Vernon bellowed over the screams from the boys behind him. The other parents were rushing their children inside, hoping to find some way to cure the sudden and inexplicable outbreak of boils that continued to bulge on their precious darlings' faces. Severus knew it would be nearly impossible to fix without at least a Muggle doctor's help. Those were caused by magic, and simple Muggle remedies would not be able to undo the damage.

A good man would have gone in and fixed them up— Obliviating everyone when he was done— but Severus secretly followed Potter instead. Only after the boy crumpled to the ground in agony did his uncle finally yell at him to go to his cupboard. . .whatever that meant. After ensuring that nobody was watching him, Severus sneaked inside as well and stuck his foot in the cupboard door just as Potter readied to lock himself inside.

"Potter."

The boy stared at him. His eyes were puffy and blackened and he was covered in bruises. Without his glasses, Severus noted that he looked more like his mother than his wretched father; that would only make things harder.

"Yes sir?" he asked in a hollow voice.

Severus glanced over his shoulder. Nobody was in the room, and even though he could still hear the boys were still howling in pain in the kitchen, it was rather quiet in here.

"Do you know how you did that, Potter?"

The boy's eyes widened fearfully. "I didn't—"

"You did," Severus cut across him harshly. Noticing Potter's confusion, he added, "Has anything like that happened before? Something...unusual that you couldn't explain?"

Potter leaned back into his cupboard, wary of just how much his neighbour knew. After considering the question for a moment, he responded quietly, "No sir. Nothing."

Severus saw that he was lying. A shrinking sweater and an image of Potter sitting on some sort of roof bubbled to the surface of the boy's mind; he seemed completely unaware of the way Severus was observing him. In fact, his memories and thoughts were almost _too_ clear, even for a young child. If he kept this up, the boy was destined to be a terrible Occlumens...

"Nothing," Severus repeated, still wondering just how much the boy knew of his magical capabilities. "Why are you in here?" he asked, changing the subject in an effort to get the boy to stop staring at him.

Potter looked around the cupboard as though he were trying to formulate the proper words to describe it. "This is my room," he said plainly.

"You _room_?" Severus carefully concealed his incredulity as he observed the tiny room with renewed interest. No wonder the boy was so scrawny; the cramped space must have stunted his growth.

One crudely-drawn picture caught Severus' eye at once. There were three people in the drawing: a blonde woman with bright blue eyes, and a young boy and man who looked exactly alike. "My parents" was written neatly below the figures.

Noticing Severus' gaze, Potter pulled the picture off of the door and handed it to him for a closer inspection.

"Those were my parents," he said shyly. "And that's me," he pointed to the shortest person.

Severus cringed as his eyes lingered on the blonde woman. She looked exactly like Petunia.

"Have you ever seen a real picture of your parents?" he asked in a strained voice, already knowing the answer.

Potter shook his head. "The only thing they've ever told me was that I look like _him._ I suppose my mum would look like Aunt Petunia though, since they were sisters."

_Not exactly,_ Severus thought silently. He wanted to tear the despicable drawing to shreds, but instead he forced himself to give it back to the boy.

"So you truly don't know why the other boys were hurt?" he asked finally, wanting to stay away from the awkward subject of Potter's parents from now on.

As expected, Potter shook his head. Resisting the urge to flat-out tell the boy he was a goddamn wizard, Severus pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket and handed them to the boy. They were no longer smashed to bits, but fully repaired, like new.

"How did you do that?" he whispered in an awed voice after he had put them on.

"The same way you attacked the other boys," Severus replied vaguely, knowing this would further the boy's confusion, which made him feel slightly better after being so damn nice to Potter.

"Severus! Why aren't you—" Minerva trailed off as Severus stepped aside, revealing Potter, who had been hiding out of sight in his cupboard when Minerva had walked in, perhaps assuming that they were alone.

"Oh! Hello. . .Potter," she scrambled to regain her composure, but Potter had already noticed something was wrong. "We were just. . .fixing up your friends."

She shot at nasty glare at Severus, as though to say: _no thanks to you. _

Potter glanced from Severus to Minerva, frowning deeply as his head darted back and forth. He was very confused.

"Are they all better now?" Severus sneered. He was disappointed to hear they hadn't suffered longer.

"Of course," Minerva snapped. "Luckily I brought along some of Pop-_Doctor Pomfrey's_ healing cream."

"I thought you couldn't use that without some _Obliviate,_" Severus replied sarcastically. He was thoroughly enjoying Potter's bewilderment; the boy must be thinking they were talking about some kind of medicine.

Minerva glared at him. "Yes. . .but this isn't the time to talk about it—"

"I thought your _boss_ specifically told you not to use—"

"Its okay, no harm done, Harry," Minerva interrupted, smiling at Potter as she spoke. "And. . .I was speaking to your aunt earlier. . .she told me they're going to Wales for Dudley's birthday this year."

"Oh I'm not going," Potter replied at once, looking glum. "I'm staying with—"

"How would you like to stay with us?"

Severus' jaw dropped in horror. Potter. . .come and live with them while his relatives were away?! Was this just a sick prank or was Minerva serious about that?

Potter's eyes lit up. "I-I'd love to. . .th-thank you."

Minerva smirked at Severus, who looked as though someone had just forced him into a room covered in bright pink furniture and adorable kittens.

Just when he had thought this summer couldn't get any worse, Minerva managed to prove him wrong yet again. An _entire week_ with Potter...

"Kill me," he muttered under his breath as Minerva wrapped her arm around Potter's shoulders and led him away.

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